"Yes, I would dare. And I'll leave you tied the rest of the night unless you cease your struggles. Your choice, Sinead. Spread your legs and raise your knees to your chest within three seconds or we'll do it my way."

He placed the washcloths on a nightstand. He was resolute. His way or his way.

She opened her mouth as if to protest then she closed it again.

With her own form of defiance, she followed orders, but she took more than the allotted three seconds.

For that, she'd be oh-so-tantalisingly punished.

"Have you ever been blindfolded while being explored? Do you know what it's like to be forced to depend on all your other senses?"

"No," she whispered.

Her breathing changed. Her chest rose and fell in quick succession.

Even though he'd just had her, he wanted her again. His dick had never become completely flaccid and it was thickening again.

He grabbed a blindfold from the nightstand. "Straighten your head," he told her when she turned to the left.

Without protest, maybe curious despite herself, she looked up at him, unblinking as he lowered the blindfold.

She moaned slightly but didn't protest when he laid the black material across her eyes and lifted her head to secure the straps in place.

"I want you to listen to me," he said quietly.

Instinctively she turned her head the direction of his voice.

"You won't know what I'm going to do next." He tweaked one of her nipples and she whimpered.

"You won't know if I'm going to remove the plug gently or if I'm going to yank it out." He stroked the inside of her right thigh but didn't touch her intimately. "Keep your knees up, your legs apart."

She clenched her buttocks. Obviously, since he'd planned it that way, she expected him to tug on the butt plug.

Instead he manoeuvred quietly to cup her right breast as if weighing it, then as she relaxed, he moved. Before she could possibly know what he was about, he pulled back the hood covering her clit and sucked hard on the distended nub.

She screamed.

She was passionate and responsive, and part of him hoped she continued to deny him a truce. He took her free hand and fastened it to the headboard. She was totally exposed and vulnerable, spread apart and opened. "Now you're deprived of touch. "She could release her left hand at any time, but she didn't. She was as attuned to this pleasure as he was.

Lightly, he slapped her hot cunt.

She arched. She screamed.

He slapped her again.

She drank in a huge gulp of air.

He shoved three fingers deep inside her wet pussy.

"Feck!"

That wasn't at all ladylike. And wasn't that what he wanted? His smile was triumphant, and he was as delighted for her as he was for himself.

He finger-fucked her, with long, slow thrusts, then shorter, faster ones. She writhed and thrashed.

Then he kissed her mouth.

She responded ferociously, biting and sucking.

He shoved a hand into her hair and pulled.

He swallowed her cry with a deeply brutal kiss. He felt her tongue in his mouth, meeting each of his demands with one of her own.

He ended the kiss and returned his mouth to her pussy, lapping up the juices, and causing a wave of fresh ones.

He brought her to the edge and kept her teetering there. He grabbed hold of the base of the plug. As he tongued her and sucked her, he eased the plug in and pulled it just back to the point her sphincter resisted. He wanted her familiar with the sensation, comfortable with his exploration of her anus.

She dug her heels into the mattress and arched her hips towards him, offering her entire body with tiny whimpers. Then, just then, he increased the pressure and motions of his tongue and simultaneously yanked out the butt plug.

She yelped and cursed. "I-"

"Give me your orgasm," he demanded. "Now." He continued to manipulate her with his fingers for only a couple more seconds until her climax overtook her.

"Good God," she said. Her chest rose and fell, her ribcage expanding and contracting furiously.

Oh yes, she was perfect in her response. And their descent into BDSM would be a fast and furious one.

"Your arse is stretched." He looked at her, admiring her, wanting her. "I think you'll like it when I fuck you up there," he said. "Or when Logan fills your arse while I claim that hot pussy of yours."

She shivered, but he couldn't tell whether it was from fear or excitement or a combination of the two.

"You're joking about sharing me with another man."

"A man of my choosing," he clarified. "I'll not be a cuckold. But within the confines of a scene I set up, aye."

He left her long enough to dampen a flannel and rinse the plug.

When he returned, he removed the blindfold then gently cleansed her.

It'd been years since he'd had a woman in his bed. Usually he booked a hotel or slept at her place. He rarely spent an entire night with any woman. He certainly didn't snuggle of his own choice.

He pulled up the blankets and covered her naked shoulders.

"Are you going to leave me naked and bound?" she demanded.

"Indeed I am. I want a peaceful night's sleep."

"If I can't turn over or if I'm cold I won't be having a peaceful night."

"More's the pity."

"You're seriously going to treat me like a captive and keep-"

"Sub," he interrupted, turning onto his side and gathering her close. He shaped his body to hers and placed an arm across her torso. His partially aroused cock bumped against her lovely behind.

"Semantics."

"Cease your struggles," he told her. "If you were a proper sub, you'd happily go along with my wishes because they're my wishes."

"Not a chance."

"And that's why you'll be kept naked and confined for the rest of the night."

"Beast," she said, but the word lacked real heat. She kept her body rigid for a few moments before slowly relaxing.

He smiled against her hair. So, this was what peace felt like with this woman. He decided to enjoy it, knowing it wouldn't last long.

Chapter Seven.

"Top of the morning, Mistress O'Malley."

No one actually said that anymore. Not sincerely. So that meant Sinead was having a nightmare, a living, nasty, vicious nightmare. And Quinn was the centre of it all.

"Wake up, vixen. Mra would like to meet you."

His grandmother wanted to meet her?

Sinead blinked against the grit in her eyes. Her head ached and her confined arm had grown numb.

The memory of last night flooded back. On its wings were an illicit thrill and a sense of shame from being out of control, for asking him to do unspeakable things to her. No one, anywhere, anytime, had got the response from her that her mortal enemy had. She hated that.

And damn it, she hated that he looked so devastatingly handsome.

He wore a long-sleeved black T-shirt and a pair of trousers that accented his firm buttocks. The black suited him perfectly, with his dark Irish looks and lord of the manor attitude. "Unfasten me so that I can choke you."

"You truly are a ray of sunshine in the mornings."

"Does teigh transa ort fein mean anything to you?"

"I'll take go fuck yourself as an invitation to join you in bed and sample a few more of your delicacies? I have not, for example, put nipple clamps on you." He shot a glance towards a partially open drawer.

It was the one, she presumed, where he'd found the butt plug last night.

Seemingly unperturbed by her behaviour or the fact he still had her tied to the bedpost, he stood near the bed and sipped deeply from a stout mug.

"Coffee?" she asked. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "Is that coffee? Not tea?"

"Coffee. American. Hot." He took a drink. "Strong. A splash of cream, a couple of spoons of sugar. It's prepared just the way you like it, if I recall."

Despite herself, her mouth moistened.

Damn it, it wasn't just from the idea of coffee. It was from him. He stood there, a thick Aran sweater emphasising the breadth of his shoulders. She was mesmerised by him, his dark eyes, the hypnotic shape of his lips, the firm, square shape of his chin.

She was all-too-aware of her nakedness and the way she'd so wantonly submitted to him. But it had been more than simple submission.

Sinead turned her head to the side, looking away from him, trying to gather her wits.

She'd been vulnerable and needy.

She'd wanted his possession.

Everything he'd given her had made her hungry for more.

Who knew all that had been in her? Who knew her hated enemy was the one man to bring it to the surface, to make her scream out an orgasm and beg for more? "There's more?" she asked.

He took a few moments answering. Over the mug's rim, he casually mentioned, "There's a full pot downstairs. I brewed it for you."

"I don't suppose you'll bring me a cup."

"Sinead, I'll fetch you anything you'd like."

For a moment, just a moment, she believed him.

"None too worse for wear?"

"I'll never be able to use my arm again. It's probably pulled from the socket."

He put the mug on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the mattress. "I'll need your word that you won't run again."

"Quinn-"

"Your word, Sinead."

"This is intolerable." At this point, she'd do almost anything to be released from her bondage and for a cup of coffee.

She struggled to sit up, and he was there, silently helping her, lending his strength and his support. The sheets slipped, exposing her breasts and her hardening nipples.

The colour of his eyes seemed to darken.

As if he couldn't help himself, he leant forward.

Her back was against the headboard. Her arm was still tied. She had nowhere to go.